


Reminder

by paintedwolf



Series: Sub Rosa [2]
Category: Charmed (TV 1998)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-21
Updated: 2020-02-21
Packaged: 2021-02-28 04:29:18
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,675
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22827964
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/paintedwolf/pseuds/paintedwolf
Summary: Tag to "My Three Witches"Chris had been trying to teach the Charmed Ones a lesson, but it turns out, they weren't the only ones who learnt a thing or two that day.
Series: Sub Rosa [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1638253
Comments: 1
Kudos: 33





	Reminder

It hits him the moment he re-materializes in his little backroom at _P3._ He breathes out a sigh of relief when no dull thump of a busy club greets his ears; as far as he can tell, he's completely alone.

_Small mercies_ , Chris thinks. He squints at the digital clock next to his bed (couch), knowing he should probably be concerned with how blurry it looks right now, but he's too busy being thankful that he'll get at least a few hours of peace before anyone arrives for shift.

Not that he couldn't have found somewhere else to be alone in the blink of an eye, but this place has become his de facto home-slash-base-of-operations when he isn't at the Manor. It's one of the only places he can relax and let go, just a little.

There's always the chance of unexpected visitors, but it's been a long time since Chris has felt safe enough to let his guard down entirely, so he isn't particularly concerned about anyone catching him totally off guard. He's never liked surprises, anyway.

At least one of the sisters would tell him that's no good way to live, but Chris knows it is what it is. Sometimes, there just isn't a choice. Even witches as powerful as the Charmed Ones couldn't always decide how they wanted to live their lives. That's not the way the world works, not the way _evil_ works.

There's no schedule, no set time to prepare, and even if you do every day of your life there’s no way of knowing it will be enough when darkness suddenly swoops in and takes everything you love.

That was what he'd been trying to show them when he went to Gith. _Trying_ being the operative word. He hadn't _meant_ for things to get so out of control. He hadn't _meant_ to put them in so much danger.

He'd been reckless. He'd let his frustration and, yes, _anger,_ at the girls' stubbornness get the better of him, and it had almost cost them all their lives. Gith may have been a low-level demon, a self-described sewer rat and not worth his time on any other day, but that was no excuse for getting cocky. Chris knows his power and shouldn't have so easily taken for granted that he'd be able to completely shield himself from it. Not when it was the bastard's _entire_ _purpose_ to suss out what it was you really wanted. And he hadn't _wanted_ to have almost _killed_ them.

The Charmed Ones aren't the only ones who had learnt a hard lesson that day.

The rapid swell of terror that accompanies those thoughts shoots straight to his knees, and he reaches out blindly towards the desk to steady himself. He dashes angrily at burning eyes, throws the hated Valkyrie pendant still clutched in his hand across the room. It clicks quietly as it crashes into the far wall, clatters and skids to a halt in the corner.

Chris can feel the sweat gathering on his upper lip, at the edges of his face, expanding outwards in cold shivers like millions of tiny insect legs swarming his body.

Why the hell is this so _hard_?

He had planned it all so meticulously, spent weeks and months preparing, and forced every thought and feeling that could get him into trouble into submission. He can't lose it now.

But that's the thing, isn't it?

Chris can be as hard and confident and aloof as he needs to be, but he's always been better at dealing with things in the moment. Putting up the façade isn't the hard part. Setting his emotions aside to focus on what has to be done is a piece of cake. _I'm fine_ is just two little syllables that no one believes, but an easy answer they accept anyway.

It's what happens _afterwards_ – when there's no one left to put on the show and be strong for – that tears at him. Moments of quiet and peace that give volume to his darkest thoughts, and shed light on his weaknesses and insecurities and failures.

How is he supposed to live with himself after what he's done? _Necessary_ may be a good enough _reason_ , but it isn't a salve to every kind of guilt.

He misses Bianca.

Keeping his true identity a secret might be in the interest of everyone's safety – including his own – but it also means he's completely, utterly alone in all this. Back home, he's got precious few people he can turn to in times of need, but here, he doesn't even have the luxury of knowing there's a _single person_ just an orb away that he can talk to or plan with. Who could help make some of the decisions for once. It’s been a long time since he’s been the kind of person who readily accepts help or comfort from other people, but it surprises him how much he's craved it these past few weeks, even if it's something as small as offering to make him a cup of tea.

It's the sort of kindness his mother was especially good at – those unexpected, sweet little things she used to do that made him feel special, even if it was just to smile at him for no other reason than because she loved him.

He misses her, too. More than he knows how to express, more than he wishes she knew the truth.

He can't do this. He hadn't expected to be so weak. He doesn't need their approval, their support, their love. He _doesn't._

But God help him, he _wants_ it. He doesn't know how much more he has in him to be able to see them every day and not just…give in and tell them everything. He doesn't know how much longer he can swallow their looks of distrust, and keep doing things that make him deserve it.

He can't–

Chris takes in a few heaving breaths. The raw horror he's feeling has mellowed some, but he's still on the edge of completely unraveling, and it frustrates him. It's pathetic, really. Sitting around feeling sorry for himself isn't going to help _anyone._

He's tired, is all. 

Darklighter arrows are a bitch. Even for a half-Whitelighter, they're a huge energy-drain, and he hasn't had a good night's sleep in who-the-hell-knows how long. His side still hurts, his chest aches and the tremors rumbling through his body aren't all lingering weakness from his injury. But this is a long-haul, not a sprint, and Chris can't falter every time things get a little rough. He doesn't have _time_ for that.

Leo cutting him some slack on the Elder trial had at least been a pleasant – if unexpected – victory. He isn't naïve enough to think his change of heart had nothing to do with Piper (he'd have to remember to thank her for that sometime), but it's a start. He also isn't enough of an optimist to expect this small truce between them will last, so he has to use it to his advantage while he still can. He may have gained just a small piece of Leo's respect, but his trust is a trickier thing, one Chris needs if he's going to be able to do his job with relative ease. He doesn't – truth be told – give a damn what Leo thinks of him personally, but the recently-minted Elder still holds sway with the sisters and that could definitely turn against him in a big way if he makes the wrong move. He has _their_ grudging trust, but they still don't listen to him most of the time, and that gives Leo an edge that Chris would prefer to have in his corner. It also doesn't help that he also knows people who can send him back to the future, and as demonstrated quite effectively not so many hours ago, apparently isn't afraid to use that against him if Chris pushes hard enough. Being sent back would be the absolute worst case scenario, but Chris doesn't exactly want it to get to the point where they try to take away his Whitelighter powers, either. That's bound to result in him having to reveal more than a few secrets he's not actually prepared to part with, and bring up a whole lot of other questions he can’t actually answer without risking everything he’s worked for.

Half-Whitelighters aren’t exactly common, even in his time, but, more importantly, they don’t answer to the powers-that-be the same way. He’s so far been coasting on Leo’s assumption that he must have been sent here by the Elders for the sake of the greater good, but if even that gets called into question, he doesn’t think he’ll be able to salvage what little credibility he has left.

Damn Leo, anyway. He doesn't know why he's fighting becoming an Elder so hard. Way Chris knew him, he could never seem to _wait_ to leave the mere mortals behind on Earth for his fluffy clouds and rainbows Up There. He hadn’t exactly banked on having his every goddamned move watched just because Leo suddenly decided he wanted a shot at a Dad of the Year award or some crap, as if he isn’t going to up and abandon them all eventually, anyway. Screw that. He’s not going to let _Leo_ of all people stand in his way with this. He’ll just have to be more careful from now on, that’s all. 

He allows himself one more sobbed, tearless breath before he straightens. His side throbs like it’s still bruised, but Chris doesn’t know if it really is somewhere beneath the surface, or if it’s all in his head. Either way, it’s what’s left of a mistake that could so easily have spelled death for all of them, and he’ll use this one as a reminder to do better next time.

He pushes aside the last of his doubts. He's a Halliwell, dammit. Halliwells don’t give up, not when it's hard, not when there's work to be done. 

And he has plenty. 


End file.
